


Aftermath to a Train-Wreck

by INMH



Series: Merry Month of Masturbation Fills (2019) [20]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Drama, F/M, Humor, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Pining, Sexual Content, Strong Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-01-23 05:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18542833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INMH/pseuds/INMH
Summary: Sequel to A Big Damn Train-Wreck. Jess shouldn’t have looked at those friggin’ dick-pics.





	Aftermath to a Train-Wreck

Shit.  
  
Shit, shit, shitty _shit._  
  
_I shouldn’t have looked at his phone, I shouldn’t have seen those goddamn dick-pics, they’re in my head now._  
  
Sharky’s kinda hot.  
  
It kills Jess inside to admit it, because while Sharky apparently has a great body under that bulky sweatshirt of his, he’s also barely got anything going on between his ears. He’s a moron that once asked her to pop a zit on his back, and while Jess is no dainty flower, she has her limits. She’s known Sharky for years, and has witnessed first-hand the legendary stupidity he’s capable of- especially if Hurk Jr. is involved.  
  
And yet, Jess still had a wet-dream about him fucking her.  
  
Jess is still shaking from it. The thing about dreams is that they feel real even if you kinda know they’re not; and in the midst of the dream Jess _knew_ that it wasn’t real, but it didn’t stop her from wrapping her legs around Sharky’s waist and encouraging him to go deeper like she _wants_ him to fuck her ‘til she comes-  
  
_Fuck!_  
  
Jess grinds her teeth.  
  
Propositioning Sharky is not an option.  
  
There’s a chance he’ll accept, and Jess knows it’s not a good idea to fuck someone with Sharky’s brains (or lack thereof, she should say). One broken condom and she’ll be the dubiously proud mother to Charlemagne Victor Boshaw Jr. But what really puts her off is the possibility that he’ll say no: Those dick-pics she saw on his phone present the possibility that Sharky’s got someone already, and it would be the _height_ of humiliation if she were to be rejected by him. Oh, Jess doesn’t doubt that Sharky would be kind about it- one of the redeeming qualities he and Hurk Jr. share is that they’re surprisingly, unfailingly _nice_ to anyone who isn’t actively shooting at them (That’s not even accurate- Hurk Sr.’s shot at them before and Hurk Jr. still goes back to him like a puppy, eager for love and attention. Out loud Jess would call it pathetic, but inside, she’d call it really sad). But Sharky _knowing_ that she was interested enough to ask would make rejection unspeakably humiliating.  
  
No. Going to Sharky directly isn’t an option.  
  
But this…  
  
… _This_ feels pathetic.  
  
Jess wishes she was the sort of person that kept sex toys, because she badly wants to replicate that imagined feeling of Sharky’s cock in her. She’ll figure that out later, but for now she rubs her clit and uses her imagination.  
  
Sharky had been quiet in the dream, but he probably wouldn’t be quiet during sex- or would he? He’s a motor-mouth in general, but maybe he’s quiet during sex. As long as he doesn’t say anything uniquely, stupidly typical of Sharky, Jess is fine with him talking, grunting, swearing, asking her to spread her legs a little wider…  
  
Jess groans, rolling over onto her stomach and propping herself up on her knees and one arm, ass in the air.  
  
That’s an idea: Sharky fucking her from behind, hands on her hips and cock driving into her, brushing her g-spot. It’s been a long time since Jess has had sex with anyone, not since an ill-advised tumble with a classmate in her high school years, so maybe her fantasizing isn’t a hundred-percent accurate where getting fucked is concerned; but then, that’s the point of fantasizing, isn’t it?  
  
“Fuck,” Jess groans, hating how high-pitched her voice is, “Fuck, Sharky, fuck-”  
  
She comes with barely a squeak, hips bucking and straining with pleasure.  
  
When it’s done, Jess curls up in bed and yanks the covers over her head.  
  
_Fuck, fuck, I’m pathetic._  
  
_I’m really, **really** pathetic._  
  
-End


End file.
